Name Games

Name Games are simultaneous an easy and difficult concept to grasp in college football.  It started, interestingly enough, with a discussion of John O'Korn's number change to #8 and a mention of Nick Sheridan and my defense that Nick Sheridan will always have "The Nick Sheridan Game".  That led to my desire to make this list.

So a "Name Game" is, on some level, a great performance by a player where it is that player's signature game.  It is seemingly simple, but as discussion bore out, like anything that seems simple, it is not.  Let us eliminate a few things ahead of making the list.

It is, generally, not:

·         A Game that is better known by another name.
To wit, Barry Pierson had a tremendous performance in the 1969 Ohio State game, and that may very well be his signature game, but that would not be immediately how anyone characterized it in discussing it.  This is not to disparage three interceptions and a 60-yard punt return to set up Michigan's third touchdown, he is clearly the game's MVP, but that's not quite what this exercise is.  That also tends to eliminate bowl games, which knocks out Leroy Hoard's effort in the 1989 Rose Bowl, Steve Breaston's valiant effort in the 2005 Rose Bowl and the like.  It also eliminates Anthony Carter's effort against Indiana in 1979, which is better known as "Ufer Goes Crazy".

·         A Game that Michigan lost.
Interestingly enough, that tends to create its own version of the Name Game, like The Donovan McNabb Game, The Dennis Dixon Game, The Troy Smith Game, where the opponent that did it to Michigan goes down in legend.  But that is not out focus here.  But some honorable mentions would have to go to Devin Gardner's effort on a broken foot against Ohio State in 2013 and Walter Cross's 104 yards and two touchdowns as a freshman that came up shy against Syracuse in 1998 (yes, the Donovan McNabb game).

·        A Game in the Darkest Timeline
Though many of these are eliminated by the previous condition, though suggested to me, I'm not going down the road of Nebraska 2012 or Minnesota 2014.  We all know what happened and to hang that title on the name of a player when it speaks more to decisions made by the coaching staff prior to the game is simply not fair to the player.  It also knocks out the Tyler Ecker game. #pitchittobreaston

·         A Game that immediately raises an argument.
I dubbed this "the autopen argument" and it's more of a compliment than anything.  To wit, what is Denard Robinson's signature game for Michigan?   Heck, he has two signature performances against Notre Dame alone (even if one is Under the Lights, aka "Jeremy Gallon's Cloaking Device").  Or Desmond Howard?  Do you pick Notre Dame 1991, Boston College 1991, or Ohio State 1991.  Charles Woodson?  Michigan State 1997, Ohio State 1997, etc.  This tends to hurt quarterbacks, as they can have multiple great games in their careers.

·         A Game which is more about the "One Shining Moment" principle, aka sharing the wealth.
Also not a knock.  But a single shining moment in a game is not, necessarily, enough to make it a Name Game for you.  To wit, John Thompson's scoop and score against Wisconsin in 2008 is memorable, but not necessarily "The John Thompson Game", because it's also a bit of "The Steven Threet Game" due to his crazy, season long for the team scramble in the second half.  It also, kind of, eliminates Indiana 2015, since that is simultaneously The Jake Rudock Game and The Jehu Chesson Game (we hope that Mr. Chesson autopens a few more of those efforts this season, allowing us to move Mr. Rudock's six TDs into this category.)  It also eliminates Iowa 2001, because as much as Larry Foote was an absolute, absolute monster in that game, 15 tackles, including setting a school record 7 TFL, Marquise Walker's "how did he catch that" grab late in the third quarter keeps it from reaching the singularity.   Tai Streets effort in 1996 against Ohio State at the Horseshoe is also memorable for how Brian Griese seemingly came out of the depths of nowheresville to regain the starting quarterback job.

Now, all of that said, there are always exceptions to how we remember things, memory very rarely follows a strict set of rules.  So, with that in mind, a ranking of Name Games of the last 25 years.

Honorable Mentions:

The John Kolesar Game - at Ohio State 1988

Yes, this is outside the scope of our consideration, but Ohio native John Kolesar, with less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter, ran back a kickoff 59 yards to get Michigan in position and then caught a 41-yard TD pass to give Michigan the win.  That gets you a mention, for sure.  (Keeping in mind that Kolesar also had a huge catch in the 1985 game from Harbaugh as well.  He saved some of his best work for The Game.)

The Roy Roundtree Game - Illinois 2010

Treezy set the Michigan record for receiving yards in a game with 246, besting Braylon Edwards effort in 2004 against Michigan State (more on that in a moment.)  But this also falls under the "better known as" principle, since this is the 67-65 triple overtime game against the Illini, so it is not necessarily remembered as the Roy Roundtree Game.

The Mario Manningham Game - Penn State 2005

The Ernest Shazor Game - at Purdue 2004

The Phil Brabbs Game - Washington 2002

In each of these three cases, they should not qualify under the "One Shining Moment" guidelines, but in each of these cases, they are moments "at the death", to use the term from English football, where the victory is sealed by their actions.  In the case of Manningham, TOUCHDOWN MANNINGHAM is indelibly seared into the brains of many a Michigan fan (and many a Penn State fan, who will tell you this write up is two seconds too long to begin with.)   In the case of Ernest Shazor, though he had a monster game, his explosive hit of the Boilermakers' Dorien Bryant, following a Markus Curry hit, which led to a Leon Hall fumble recovery to end Purdue's last gasp drive was so big, it overshadowed a 206-yard rushing effort by freshman Mike Hart in our collective memory.  In the case of Phil Brabbs, his two early missed field goals against the Huskies in the 2002 season opener led to one more shot at redemption on the last play of the game, of which he made the most.  Worthy of mentioning, but not necessarily what we're looking for here.

The Drake Johnson Game - Indiana 2014

Though I have already dubbed Indiana 2014 "The Drake Johnson Game" on this blog, I am leaving it out, as I do not feel it is fair to cast in stone a Michigan career not yet finished.  I hope, I sincerely hope, that there is a bigger, better Drake Johnson game left somewhere in the future.

10).        The Brandon Herron Game - Western Michigan 2011

Brady Hoke's first game as Michigan head coach, when we were so full of hope…and Denard.   Better remembered for the wicked weather and being called early with 87 seconds left in the third quarter, this is still the Brandon Herron game, between his 94 yard pick six, and his score off a fumble forced by Captain Kovacs, two defensive scores, in such a delightful manner gave hope to an era and a fanbase desperately looking for it.

  9).        The Jerome Jackson Game - at Iowa 2005

Interesting case here, because it was suggested several times by different Twitter users, but others could not remember it when mentioned.   Jerome Jackson's name game comes from pinch hitting for a dinged up Mike Hart and taking over the fourth quarter at Kinnick, then scoring on a 1-yard run in overtime to seal a big win during "the season of infinite pain" and Coach Carr's 100th win as Michigan head coach.

  8).        The Justin Fargas Game - at Northwestern 1998

Before Son of Huggybear left Ann Arbor for the warmer climes of Los Angeles, he had one legendary night in the muck and the mire of a soaked Ryan Field in Evanston.  Though usually the purview of the A-Train in that era (who will have a hugely memorable moment at Ryan Field two seasons later and I don't want to talk about it.), Justin Fargas had 31 carries for 120 yards to secure a much needed conference win against a Northwestern team that looked more fierce at the time than it would at the end of the season.

  7).        The Tate Forcier Game - Notre Dame 2009

Though the post itself was one of the biggest whiffs of my chronicling career, the point remains.  The image of Forcier, pointing to the crowd after a masterful scramble, the freshman so full of potential that would never truly be fulfilled, the false promise of the infamous "Rich Rod Year 2" meme that died on the one-yard line in Champaign, the charitable contributions of Charlie Weis's schematic use of times out.  All of this goes into making The Tate Forcier Game what it is.  Because, if nothing else, you beat a rival, again, in a completely unexpected and shocking manner.

  6).        The Chris Perry Game - at Michigan State 2003

51 times.  No FBS player since 2003 has carried the ball more times in a game than Chris Perry did on that day in East Lansing.  Only one, Michael "The Burner" Turner, has carried it more in a game since 2000 (as far back as the Play Index goes), and that was literally just one more carry.  219 yards and Michigan needed every one of them to hold off Michigan State that day, 27-20.  "I need a hot tub," Perry said that day. "And we've got one in our apartment."

  5).        The Nick Sheridan Game - at Minnesota 2008

I have often dubbed this "Sheridan Saves the Jug" and it's true.  In the darkest night in recent Michigan football memory, well, at least until 2014 and another Minnesota game, Nick Sheridan, the coach's son who came to Michigan and probably never expected to see game action behind Ryan Mallett, fills in for a banged up Steven Threet and proceeds to, in utterly efficient fashion, go 18/30 for 203 yards and a TD, no picks, and Michigan wins 29-6. Sheridan saves the Jug (until 2014…ugh), and preserves Michigan's perfect record at the Metrodome.

  4).        The John Navarre Game - at Minnesota 2003

OK, yes, this is probably remembered for "the Water Buffalo Stampede" and being on a Friday night, and the comeback, and being for the Jug, but it is the moment for John Navarre.  "Not Drew Henson" led Michigan to a 31 point fourth quarter, threw for three touchdowns, ran for a huge gain on the Transcontinental, and won the 100th anniversary of the purchase of the Jug game (wanting to get that just right for Dooley) and Michigan's 15th straight win in the series.  You'll always have the Metrodome, John.

  3).        The Jeremy Gallon Game - Indiana 2013

This isn't fair to Devin Gardner, who had 584 yards of total offense, 503 of which came through the air.  It's just that he kept finding Jeremy Gallon.  Again and again and again.  Gallon had a B1G record 369 receiving yards on 14 catches with two touchdowns as Michigan won 63-47.  Even as further cracks appeared in the foundation of the Hoke era, Gallon was there with spackle, a trowel, and an indomitable will.

(Author's edit: 3/9/16.  A compelling case for The Devin Gardner Game - Notre Dame 2015 has been made in the comments, so I am slotting it in at 2a), which feels right.  Seth, take it away.)

The DEVIN GARDNER game! You brought up the Ohio State one on a broken foot, but what about in Under the Lights II, which name needs to go both for being not very descriptive (who's going to remember every night game?) and for the Dave Brandonness of it.

The Game in 2013 was representative of the Tragedy of Devin, but against ND that year Gardner was transcendent:

*21 for 33 for 294 yards, 4 TDs and an interception
*13 rushes for 96 yards and another TD
*That totally insane INT where he was falling down and chucked it to a nose tackle in the end zone.

THIS THROW: https://youtu.be/J2uZXmavRTs that's 30 yards and made ropes feel bad.
THIS THROW: https://youtu.be/MPr_zv0hSos where he took over the mind of his receiver.
THIS OMIGOD THIS THIS THIS THROW: https://youtu.be/e7dh8hODIq0
WATCH THAT ONE AGAIN!
THIS THROW: https://youtu.be/vmlpG5QbkPg
THIS THROW: https://youtu.be/9uU2efsWDkE

You skipped the last one didn't you? Don't do that. Unless of course you want to do anything else again ever because once you click that you will need to simulcast the Woodson/Desmond returns to break your skull out of it.


On a night after an entire day of having to listen to tailgate idiots talk about how Shane Morris would replace him, on a night when his offensive line was a disaster on the level of, well, 2013 Michigan, on a night when not a single linebacker or safety showed the least bit of fear of any kind of handoff run, Gardner looked like an NFL franchise QB, ran like an NFL-bound RB, and then we all got to make glorious chicken noises.

  2).        The Tim Biakabatuka Game - Ohio State 1995

313 yards.  In The Game.  To upset previously unbeaten and #2 in the country Ohio State.  To send Northwestern to the Rose Bowl.  To overshadow eventual Heisman winner Eddie George.  To forever be BIAKA…..BATUKA in the hearts and minds of a generation of Michigan football fans.

  1).        The Braylon Edwards Game (bka Braylonfest) - Michigan State 2004

One of my first outings in football blogging, Braylonfest is as magic a game as I have ever been to at Michigan Stadium for the reasons outlined in this post.   That there are over 1500 Google results for this specific one-word term speaks to MGoBlog's power to create a meme and to the magic in the gloaming of that evening.  Braylon Edwards had other great games at Michigan, but if every Michigan receiver who wears #1 has to earn it, he earned it, in spades, that evening. 

I may have missed some (you know where to find us), and I am exceptionally grateful to all of you who joined in this exercise on Twitter, it was some fun in the dark of early Spring in Michigan.

The Eternal Yesterday and England's Dreaming

"The German sociologist Max Weber cited three reasons for citizens to obey their rulers: 'the authority of the eternal yesterday,' or historical prestige; 'the authority of the extraordinary personal gift of grace,' or the ruler's charisma; and 'domination by virtue of legality,' or order and justice."

To put this another way, "the eternal yesterday" means that traditional authorities receive loyalty because they continue and support the preservation of existing values, the status quo.

OK, so we know where I'm going with this.  But first, a detour.

When I was a junior at Michigan, I took History 321, Britain since 1945.  My final paper for that class was a brief history of English Football since 1945.  There is no paper I wish I could go back and rewrite from my college years more than that one, not because I got a bad grade on it, but because I could do so much better with what I have learned in the last 15 years.

What I now understand so much better (and would have understood without the intervening 15 years of history, though those 15 years certainly crystallize it) is that England's National Team is a fight against the one shining moment of triumph, on home soil, for a country that invented the game (just ask them).  A pop culture annus mirabilis of  modern British culture framed against this singular victory left a generation of Britons seeking to recapture the moment, telling their children about the feeling, and hoping to feel it just once more.

In "Three Lions", David Baddiel and Frank Skinner use a comic touch to get at the core of the notion that England is just waiting for that moment again, and maybe with Euro '96, on English soil, those thirty years of hurt would be over.  But the underlying notion is that English fans, since that fateful day in Wembley in 1966, have been waiting for the other shoe to drop, because it inevitably does, a notion reinforced perpetually by a media driven narrative.  In this version, instead of being comforted by the victory, 1966 haunts England like a specter, the glorious past that recedes ever faster into the shroud of gray that accompanies time.

And yet, through all that, the chorus speaks to unshakeable optimism: "Thirty years of hurt never stopped me dreaming."  It's that essential English optimism, that true belief that the ecstasy of the moment overrides everything else.

There's a fascinating disconnect among Michigan fans of various generations in recent years, and it is best understood by looking at the origin of the word nostalgia.  It comes from the Greek root words nostos "return home" and algos "pain"; essentially nostalgia is "acute homesickness".  We are only nostalgic for the things we miss from a previous time.  We tend to block out all of the bad things, we blast past them, hands over our eyes, focusing only on the good things, and overlooking the bad.  We're nostalgic for those 40 years when 6-6 and 7-5 were "years of infinite pain".  We tend to forget that we start the clock in 1969, when Michigan went 8-3 under Bo, forgetting that Michigan went 8-2 in 1968 under Bump.  The difference, of course is, one of those years ends 50-14 because Woody couldn't go for three against the #4 team in the nation, and one of those years "ends" on 24-12 because of the Upset of the Century by the #12 team in the country over the defending national champions.  (OK, it actually ends in the Arroyo Seco with Bo in the hospital and USC holding Michigan to a field goal in 10-3 Trojans victory.)  But Bo is the savior, but so history gets rewritten by The Victors.

This is not to take away from the joy of the 1969 season, not in the least.  It is to merely point how dangerous it is to choose a starting point and say "This, and ONLY THIS, is what Michigan football is."  Admittedly, it is a good starting point, from 1969 to 1974, Michigan went 58-7-1 over those six years.  No other school in the country did as well during that six year period*.  And yet, no national championship, 2-3-1 against Woody, 56-4-0 against everyone else.  The modern landscape of college football is so utterly different, however, that era might as well be Yost's 55-1-1 from 1901 to 1905 for all of its relevance to today.

(*-Michigan's 96-15-3 clip from 1969-1978 is the longest consecutive run in the early Bo period where Michigan was the best team in the country.  Basically, if you needed a regular season football coach during the Nixon/Ford years, you call Bo.)

So we want Bo, because Bo was larger than life, or as Weber might say, he possessed "the authority of the extraordinary personal gift of grace."  Bo won, a lot.  As Geoff once said to me, the only thing that Michigan fans like more than winning is winning a lot.  It's true.  As much as I believe that Michigan fans ultimately like not losing more than winning, we are in love with winning.  Add to that that Bo represents the values of toughness, grit, hard work, straight shooting that are as Midwestern as rivalry trophies and the term "pop" to describe carbonated beverages.  We know those aviators, we know that headset, we  know that New Era cap, we see that and we know that everything is going to be OK.  We know our collective football in loco parentis is home, if you will.

But Bo himself, or should I say, the collective vision of what Bo was, wouldn't work today.  Bo's sideline fury would lead to day long breakdowns on SportsCenter and discussions of Bo's brand of "leadership".  Bo couldn't "throw kids off the team" like he used to without it becoming a social media firestorm.  Wanting the Bo that lingers in our eternal yesterday is longing for the results and wishing that the world were still such that the process could be the same too, all the while knowing it's not.  This, in turn, creates a psychic tension that cannot be broken because we are not ready to admit that this past is gone, because we worry that our letting that go will diminish the memory.

We long for the authority of our eternal yesterday because the reality of our present does not resemble the glorious past.  We long for Bo because we have memories of him, as fans either remembering the greatest glories under Bo, or growing up with him as our first coach.  We are confronted with a new generation of students for whom Michigan's 1997 National Championship might be as foreign as their 1933 National Championship.  For whom Lloyd is their first coach, for all of the ups and downs of what it means to have Lloyd, the accidental emperor, (our own George VI, if you will) as your first coach completely alters your perceptions of Michigan football and the past.

So, please let me say that Michigan football is in need of a Renaissance, a small Renaissance, but a Renaissance nonetheless.  It needs a new ruler for a new era, one who can bring stability to the land, who can recapture the spirit of 1901, the spirit of 1969, and yes, the spirit of 1997, but in their own particular idiom.  Perhaps it a Prodigal son, not a direct heir, but a branch of the tree.  Perhaps it is new blood, a vision of what Michigan can be again in their own particular style.  But we need this moment because the only way we can truly appreciate the way forward is to appreciate each era on its own merits and in its own contexts.  The past never leaves us, but it cannot block our path.

In this way, it's not unlike the debate over the Legends jerseys.  On the one hand, it's great to honor the people who built Michigan football into what it is today.  On the other hand, today's players should have the same chance to make their numbers their own, write their own legacies.  In the last seven years, we've tried a little bit of both, and the results have been less than spectacular.  But it should not stop us again.  There are no guarantees in life.  But if we choose wisely, if we choose well, and if we can get behind a new vision, if we are patient, understanding, and hopeful, we might just have a chance to succeed.

Let us celebrate the past as a link in a chain towards a brighter tomorrow,  not one sinking toward the seabed and an anchor without purchase, drifting ever closer to the shoals of imperial decline.

"I know that was then, but it could be again."

The Mandate of Heaven

I think it's very hard to see positives in a loss when you're soaking wet.  It's even harder when you misplace your keys for 45 minutes in the Liberty Square parking structure*.  But, at some point, when in the cold and the wet, you realize that the team you love is in a treadmill of despair and ineptitude, and what's worse, you don't see a way out.

The graphic above is a simplified version of the dynastic cycle as understood in ancient China.  When you teach World History, you become very familiar with imperial decline.  Football empires are not that different.  You change a few words in that graphic, and well, it's very clear that it can apply to college football programs as well.

My fear, one that crept in more clearly and crisply yesterday as the fourth quarter dawned and the sky began spitting on the crowd, is that the last seven years, maybe even the last decade, represent the new normal for Michigan football.  One where, instead of being at the top of the Big Ten and a key player in the national conversation, Michigan is a middling team in a dying conference that only can see joy and glory in a sepia toned, grainy film reel.  I don't want to believe that, I want to believe that this is just a couple of blips and that the ship can still be righted, if not this year, maybe very soon.

The problem Michigan faces is three-fold.  One, the entire Big Ten conference slate remains, so you can't just give up on the season, because as anyone in the media room would tell you yesterday, all of the team's goals are still attainable.  Two, Michigan won't fire anyone mid-season because that's not how Michigan rolls.  Three, who in the name of Yost and Schembechler is out there that you can bring in that will make things better and be acceptable to the most finicky, persnickety fan base in college football?  And even if you have a name, do you really trust Jack Donaghy to make that happen?

So we ride out the storm together, no matter how little fun it feels like right now, no matter how much we wish things were different, we ride it out, because all we have right now is to believe is that better days have to be ahead, because to believe that things can't get much worse is to open up ourselves to the punishments that hubris has to offer.

We fight for better days.

(*-The short form, I tried to use my credit card to pay at the gate, it couldn't read the card, so I took the ticket.  When I got back to Liberty Square, soaked as I was, I took my keys and wallet out, set my keys on the top of the pay machine, paid, forgot where I put my keys, had a genuinely nice parking attendant do what he could to help us find them, swore in a way that would have made Malcolm Tucker proud, then, as I was ready to call a cab to take us back to my friend's car at the Plymouth Road park and ride, walked back down to the lobby to find my keys sitting on the top of the machine, go back to the car, and find out that we had to pay extra to leave because our grace period expired.  The lesson, as always, parking sucks.)